Upon entering the driveway of my grandparents acreage, the giant root cellar that held that years' crop of potatoes was really four walls covered in pale yellow vinyl siding, seated over top of a dirt hole in the ground. As you walked in, the smell of earth was comforting. That root cellar was the place where childhood memories were lovingly made. Memories of catching salamanders, sliding down the roof into giant snowdrifts, picking raspberries on the East side and having wiener roasts on the West side, and of course, engaging in the annual Easter bag goodie hunt.

When Grandpa passed unexpectedly, the farm was sold and the root cellar became irrelevant. With no use for it any more, no one maintained it and it was torn down in 2012. Now, both grandparents are gone and so is that root cellar so it seems fitting to have it rest in the sky - not only as a symbol of heaven but also a representation of it's location in the middle of the prairies where the endless skies showed off a dance of light amongst the clouds and stars always.